


Nothing But My Leather Coat

by misslizanne



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-10 00:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2004267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslizanne/pseuds/misslizanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>because you just know Emma wrecked his clothes and that’s why Killian needs a new outfit…</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing But My Leather Coat

The long, leather jacket reaches the floor in a loud humph as she guides him backwards down the hallway to her bedroom. His mouth is nibbling on her neck, tongue flicking out across it as he keeps her close to him, careful of his steps.

“Swan,” Killian murmurs against her skin before he tilts his head back. Her fingers are practically attacking the clasps of his vest so his hand reaches between them, taking her hand and pushing it to his left in demonstration. “Push, not pull, love.”

She tries once, twice, three times, and when it doesn’t budge even the slightest bit, she merely bends the metal back until it springs loose from its hold, her fingers tugging the other two apart until they’re hanging from the dark vest by loose threads.

“You… you just…” he stammers, but her lips find his in a clash of teeth and tongue as she pushes him up against the nearest wall, body grinding into him, causing whatever it was he meant to say to leave his mind as she shrugs him out of the ruined vest.

“Just…  _shut_ …  _up_ ,” Emma pleads between kisses and moans, grinning when his hips roll into hers.

She reaches down to pull the shirt out from his leather trousers, tugging it up and over his head until it gets caught on the tip of his hook, the shrill sound of fabric tearing filling the hall until the shirt is a crumpled, tattered heap on the floor.

“Somebody’s eager,” he taunts, relishing in the way her hands roam his chest, fiddle idly with the hair there before he picks her up, wrapping her legs around his hips and marches her into the bedroom.

He places her down gently on the mattress and she grins up at him, ridding herself of her own turtleneck and bra before she undoes the button on her jeans and shimmies out of them, knowing full well his hooded gaze at the sight of her uncovered breasts and soft curves means he’s just as eager too.

He covers her body swiftly, crashing his lips into hers as he fits perfectly between her thighs. A broken groan rumbles from low in his throat when one hand finds him hard beneath his leathers, and she palms at the bulge before tearing at the laces with her free hand, pulling and tugging until they’ve come undone.

He breaks the kiss for a moment, looks down to see the laces are torn and unstrung and he shakes his head. “Bloody hell, Swan. Are you going to wreck all of my clothes?”

Emma giggles (she can’t help it). “You know,” she murmurs, eyebrow raised. “You can always retaliate.”

His eyes dart up to hers, the dark, lust-filled green causing him to burn up. A devilish smirk grows on his lips as his hook traces the curve of her hip, tucking under the black lace, drawing slow circles on her sensitive skin there with the tip of his metal attachment.

“Go on,” she whispers on a breathless moan. “I  _dare_  you.”

It’s all he needs to rip the lacy garment to shreds and toss it aside, lips finding her breast and sucking down hard. She writhes beneath him, hands roaming through the mess of black hair atop his head, the whimper lodged in her throat escaping with ease.

She hooks her leg around his narrow hip, switching their positions so she’s straddled above his, and makes her way down his chest, warm kisses placed on his skin, hands sneaking under the hem of his leathers and tugging them down down  _down_  until he’s bare before her. The shudder that wracks her body must go through his as well because she senses a slight tremble underneath her, as if this isn’t  _real_  and this isn’t  _happening_ and she wants him to know that it  _is_ , that she wants  _this_ , wants  _him_.

She anchors her knees on either side of his hips, sinking onto him, filling herself to the hilt, back arching at the sensation it creates.

“Gods,  _Emma_ ,” he purrs, like a prayer only meant for her, his hand coming up to brush her hip gently with his thumb.

She moves, just the slightest bit, and he groans, loud and wrecked, so  _so wrecked_ , and it causes her to collapse onto him, riding out the sensation of  _him_ and  _her_  and  _everything_ until they’re both coming undone for one another. 

* * *

There’s a loud ringing noise next to her ear, the clock reading 8:15 as she reaches up to turn it off and put the damn phone on silent mode…

But a strong arm reaches over her and practically slaps it with a force so hard and determined, she’s giggling like a schoolgirl.

“That didn’t turn it off,” Emma teases as she rolls over into his embrace.

Killian groans and pulls her in closer. “Sleep, love. I need sleep.”

The ringing stops and she cranes her neck around to peer at the screen, noticing her father’s name and picture flashing up at her.

“Ugh, it was my father,” she complains, trying to maneuver her way out of his warm touch and the soft sheets and when did it get so  _cold_  in here?

He pulls her back down on top of him, grinning when she rolls over his hardened erection. “Mate can wait. We have more pressing business to take care of.” He thrusts his hips up slowly, moaning when her heat brushes over him.

“But…” The phone rings again, and Emma springs up to fetch it (ignoring Killian’s grunt of disapproval), wandering around the bedroom naked as she rambles on to David about  _cold_ and  _ice queen_  and  _Zelena’s portal_.

“Never a dull day in the life of the savior, eh?” Killian asks when Emma finally hangs up.

“Guess not,” she grumbles, finding the nearest pair of jeans and shrugging them on over her hips, throwing yesterday’s turtleneck on over her head. “Get dressed. We’ve gotta go.”

“Unless you want me to face the day in nothing but my leather coat, love,” he states, almost wincing as he scratches the back of his neck nervously. “I… uh… can’t.”

“Why can’t you?” she asks, hands perched on her hips before she vividly remembers what she actually  _did_ —unstrung trousers on the floor of her bedroom, torn shirt at the door, wrecked vest in the hallway. “Oh,  _crap_.”


End file.
